


territorial

by mcwho



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: The thing about Steve Rogers is that he’s a jealous, possessive, Grade-A All-American asshole





	territorial

The thing about Steve Rogers is that he’s a jealous, possessive, Grade-A All-American asshole.  
   
Most of the world thinks his behaviour stretches to ‘protectiveness’ and stops there, because everyone knows by now how Steve gets when you hurt the people he cares about. That Steve would tear the word apart for him if he had to. Bucky knows this.  
   
And God help him, Bucky loves it.  
   
“He wasn’t – ah, Jesus, fuck, _Steve_ , we weren’t even doing nothing, I barely even looked at the guy,” Bucky gasps, spluttering with breathless giggles as Steve gnaws on his neck, beard scratching against his skin.  
   
“Barely looked, huh?” Steve rumbles, teasing, a hand curved tight around Bucky’s waist just tight enough to bow Bucky’s body against his, to show that he’s not kidding around, not really. “That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing.”  
   
“You were _standing_ right next to me,” Bucky breathes, head tipped back against the door. “You heard everything, I didn’t even flirt that much–”  
   
“Well as long as it wasn’t that much,” Steve says drily. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, placating, not quite able to stifle the smirk on his face, “come on.”

Steve looks at him, eyes dark, not appeased in the slightest. “You got no idea. No goddamn idea what you looked like tonight, dressed up all pretty like that. You know how people look at you? The way they stare? And then you give one of them the time of day, let that yutz get in close, hands all over you like–“

“He touched me _one time_ and he was just helping me fix my tie,” Bucky says, poking the bear. “You’re the one who dragged me to this thing in the first place– Stark’s events are boring, alright, I get _bored_ , you know that, and Thor brought that– that Asgardian mead an–”  
   
“And you got tipsy and loose and forgot who you belonged to,” Steve finishes for him, voice dropping lower, slower. Bucky shivers, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Steve knows – of course he knows, he knows how Bucky gets when he talks like that. “You got any idea how you looked back there? Hanging off his every word, leaning into him like some needy little floozy who’d let him do whatever he wanted.”  
   
“I wouldn’t,” Bucky breathes, quieter. “I wouldn’t–”  
   
“How can I be sure? ‘Specially with the way you acted tonight. What’s the matter, hm, sweetheart? You not getting it enough at home? That it, baby?”  
   
Bucky makes a quiet, choked noise, hands on Steve’s chest. “Jesus– Steve, you know that’s not it, you _know_ thats-” Bucky gasps quietly as Steve slides his hand into his hair and tilts Bucky’s head up so he can kiss him, hungrily, licking into Bucky’s mouth.  
   
“Fucking hated the way he looked at you,” Steve says into the kiss, quiet, voice tight. He looks like he’s perfectly aware of the game Bucky’s playing– like he knows that he’s being goaded, that he’s playing right into his hands but he couldn’t give a damn. His fingers dig into Bucky’s undoubtedly bruised waist a little more, the other hand wrapped loosely around Bucky’s throat, just enough that Bucky can feel the pressure of it there. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathes.  
   
“I would hope so,” Bucky pants, flushed all over, knees shaking.  
   
Steve laughs a little, and it makes Bucky shiver. “No, baby, I’m gonna _fuck_ you. Not gonna be able to walk right by the time I’m done with you. Look at you, cock pressed into my hip. God, you want it. You want it, don’t you?” Steve asks, working the buttons off Bucky’s dress shirt, tugging it off him and letting it fall. “Say it to me, sweetheart, come on,” he cajoles. 

“Steve,” Bucky whines, arching, grinding himself into Steve’s thigh. Steve’s so big and solid and warm, had barely locked the front door before shoving Bucky up against it and Bucky _loves_ it, of course he does, Steve handling him like this, talking to him like this. His cock twitches, drooling into his boxers. He’s going out of his mind. “So fucking _mean_ , Christ,” he pants. 

Steve hums in agreement, nipping at Bucky’s lower lip. “A little liquor in you and look at you, panting for it like you’re in heat. Always been like that, haven’t you sweetheart? Come home at all hours of the night, whiskey on your breath, climb into bed with me and kiss me awake to take care of you. Ought to teach you a lesson about restraint. I’ll slide one of those cock rings on you while I give it to you one day, keep it on ‘til you’re begging– look at me,” Steve says, and Bucky’s eyes snap open and focus on Steve’s before he’s even aware of the action. 

“Jesus,” Bucky groans in a whisper, learning something new about himself and certain kinks he didn’t know he had. He ruts against Steve’s leg, and Steve lets him. “God, that’s– yeah. Yeah. One day– not today, Steve, please,” he whimpers. 

Steve hums, pleased. “You gonna say it for me? Come on, baby, tell me how you want it.”

“I want it,” Bucky gasps, his hips rolling. He’s so hard it hurts, wants out of his constricting dress pants more than anything but the heat and friction from Steve’s thigh is so _good_. “I want it so bad, Steve, it hurts, come on.”

“Want what?” Steve asks, knee pressing between Bucky’s thighs. Bucky trembles. 

“Want your cock in me,” Bucky moans, “Steve, come on, come _on_.” Steve kisses him again, slow and syrupy and intoxicating. Bucky’s hips roll into Steve’s thigh, jerky and uncoordinated and desperate, tacky pre-come slicking up his underwear ‘til he feels dirty and wet and _fuck_ , he’s not gonna last. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, in that tone that always makes Bucky want to drop to his knees and start sucking. “Jesus, yeah, Buck, that all for me? Gonna make a mess?”  
   
“Fuck,” Bucky whines. “ _Yes_.”  
   
Steve laughs quietly, undoing Bucky’s belt, sliding a big, warm hand into his underwear. He barely gets his hand around him before Bucky’s gasping out Steve’s name, coming in slow, heavy, overwhelming pulses, Steve stroking him through it. 

Bucky’s chest heaves with pants as Steve tugs the pants off him, grabbing and squeezing his ass in the process. Bucky leans, dazed, against the door. Steve pauses suddenly, hand slipping into Bucky’s back pocket before shoving Bucky’s pants down to his ankles. When Steve’s hand comes back into view, it’s holding the little clear bottle he’d found there. 

“Hoping to get lucky tonight?” he asks, shoving his hips harder into Bucky and getting his hands under each of Bucky’s thighs and then lifting, carrying him. Bucky makes an unintelligible noise deep in his throat like he’s short-circuiting, wrapping his arms around Steve and holding on. Steve takes the few steps that lead them into the living room, dumping Bucky on the sofa unceremoniously. Bucky makes the noise again. 

“Was hoping you’d do me in the bathroom or something,” Bucky admits, dazed. 

“I should’ve done you right in the middle of the party, is what I should’ve done,” Steve tells him, hands gripping and spreading Bucky’s bare thighs. “Set a few things straight.”

“Ain’t nothin’ straight about this,” Bucky snorts as Steve slicks up his fingers. Bucky must’ve really done it this time, because Steve who usually took his sweet time getting Bucky all stretched out for him barely fits even three digits inside him before he’s pulling his wet fingers out and bending Bucky in half. Steve’s still fully dressed, doesn’t even bother getting anywhere as naked as him, just unzips his pants, pulls his cock out and shoves into him, sliding home and forcing a ragged moan out of Bucky. His nails scrape along Steve’s back, trembling fingers gripping Steve’s hair. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet, reverent. His hands slide all over Bucky’s exposed skin, touching him everywhere. “Yeah, that’s it, all mine. You mine, Buck, hm? Say it to me, baby,”  
   
“Steve,” Bucky whimpers, shaking, heart thudding in his ears. “Steve – God, yes, yeah, yours, _Steve_.”

“Fuck,” Steve moans, quiet, rough, and it drives Bucky a little crazy. “Say that again, sweetheart, say my name.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky sighs, fingers digging into his meaty shoulders, scrabbling for purchase. Steve’s lips fall to Bucky’s neck, leaving bruising kisses and bites, a possessive growl in his throat. Bucky holds on for dear life as Steve lays his claim, fucking him into and along the couch ‘til Bucky’s head is hitting the armrest, and then dragging him back down for more. 

Steve slides a hand into Bucky’s hair, tilting his head back and leaning in for a bruising kiss. Bucky gets a hand in the collar of Steve’s shirt and pulls, tearing the fabric off, the buttons popping and scattering along the ground. Steve gives a low grunt and sucks on Bucky’s lower lip as he rolls his hips into him, cock dragging along Bucky’s spot, and then Bucky’s hands are all over Steve’s bare back, feeling his muscles flex. 

Steve pulls away briefly to look down at Bucky, and he looks like he wants to _eat_ him, devour him whole. Bucky swallows, and Steve pulls all the way out and then forces his cock back in again, just to see Bucky gasp, open-mouthed, then does it over and over, forcing shocked little whimpers out of Bucky every time he fucks into him. 

“Oh, God,” Bucky whimpers. “You jealous _fucking asshole_ , oh, fuck– _fuck_.” 

“Yeah, baby,” Steve says, voice rough as he picks up his harsh, bruising pace. “Jesus, _God_ , look at you. You like that? You like having my cock inside you?”

“You know I do,” Bucky wheezes, “so fucking– _good_ , Steve, gonna come. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“I know,” Steve breathes, rocking in and out, head of his cock dragging along Bucky’s prostate and it’s so good, makes Bucky feel like part of him might not survive his impending orgasm, like he’s gonna fucking die. Bucky arches his back and whines, and Steve braces himself against the couch, a hand gripping the cushion, and then there’s a ripping sound as Steve’s hand tears right through the leather, the couch creaking dangerously beneath them. 

Bucky slurs out something that vaguely sounds like “‘M ‘g ‘na,” and then Steve’s snapping his hips, fucking him even stupider, leaning down to press his lips to Bucky’s, licking and nipping and sucking. Bucky can’t stop shaking, and then his cock jerks, pulses, and he’s done for, coming again, hands pawing mindlessly at Steve, holding him close. 

“That’s it,” Steve croons as Bucky slowly comes back to himself. It lasts forever, waves of pleasure washing over him, drowning him. “That’s it, honey, just like that.”

“Ngh,” says Bucky. Steve keeps fucking him, making the world spin uncontrollably on its axis. He’s so sensitive, twitching and gasping around Steve. The inside of his head turns to mush, until he can barely speak at all, can just moan for it like a wanton slut while Steve drives him into the shredded couch cushions. 

Steve buries his face in Bucky’s neck, moaning hotly. “So good, baby, take it so good, the _sounds_ you make, Jesus– gonna fill you up.” Bucky clenches weakly around him, giving a little sob, and then Steve’s burying himself to the hilt and spilling into him. Finally, Steve collapses down onto his elbows, mouth brushing against Bucky’s. 

Bucky kisses him lazily, their tongues sliding together, noses brushing. “Mmm,” he hums after a few moments. “Mm _hmm_. God _damn_.”

Steve looks down at him, gaze trailing all over his body, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “Mead wearing off?” Steve asks, voice raspy. 

“Wasn’t that drunk anyway,” Bucky murmurs, hand on the back of Steve’s neck to keep him close, pecking his lips. “Anyone ever told you how hot you are when you’re being an idiot?”

“Oh I’m an idiot now, am I?” Steve asks him, a thick eyebrow arching. 

“Yeah you’re an idiot,” Bucky huffs. “Anyone who thinks I’d ever even _think_ of another man like that is an idiot. It’s only you, Stevie. You know it’ll always be you.”

“A quick reminder never hurt anybody,” Steve says, but his voice is softer, his thumb strokes gently across Bucky’s flushed cheek.

“Speak for yourself. This poor sofa,” Bucky laments. “This is the ninth one you’ve ruined in a _year_ , Steve. These things don’t deserve what we put them through.”

“What about you, huh?” Steve asks, thrusting into him again, gentle, making Bucky’s stomach flip. “You gonna be able to walk after this?”

“Am I gonna be able to- I’m a goddamned supersoldier,” Bucky says, outraged, sounding a lot more breathless than he should for the declaration to really have any impact. “I am the night. I am– _oh_ ,” Bucky gasps as Steve wraps a strong arm around his waist and a hand under his thigh, lifting Bucky, then standing, walking and slamming him into the nearest wall. 

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbles, sounding real fucking apologetic. “That was rude of me. What were you saying?” 

“You’re an asshole, Rogers,” Bucky says weakly. Steve grins and starts to fuck him again, Bucky’s legs wrapped around his waist. “You’re a fucking– yeah- holy shit, yes,” he pleads as Steve changes his angle, rock hard inside him as if the last orgasm never happened. 

Steve’s looking at him like he might just about burn the world down for Bucky anyway, whether it’s absolutely necessary or not, just to be sure there’s no one in it that’ll ever touch him. Steve’s pace picks up, slowly, like he’s dwelling on and getting off to that idea, until he’s got his teeth in Bucky’s neck again, moaning. 

“Say it again,” Steve says, voice thick, low. Bucky’s cock twitches against their stomachs, hard and flushed again already. 

“Just you,” Bucky moans, knowing what Steve needs to hear. “Only you, Steve.”

Steve’s come is dripping out of him in this position, messy and so fucking hot– Bucky knows Steve can feel it too, knows that this was probably Steve’s main reason for getting them off the couch at all, to be able to feel what he’s done to him, every single bit of it. It makes Bucky burn a little hotter, makes him squirm. Steve shoves up inside him, rougher, and Bucky knows he’s right. 

Steve grips Bucky’s hips so tight it hurts, and all Bucky can do is pray for a quick recovery for his future self as Steve fucks him senseless, his pace punishing, deep and fast. “Steve,” he whispers, hoarse, distantly aware of the depression they’re leaving in the wall, his brain too overwhelmed by other sensations to give a fuck right now– _Bucky’s getting pounded at the moment, please leave any possible home renovation concerns for future-Bucky to deal with after the beep_. “Steve, please, come in me again baby, come on, want it dripping out of me.”

Bucky feels Steve’s whole body shake, his huge hot hand leaving Bucky’s hip to tug at his leaking cock, twisting his wrist on every upward stroke, shoving his weight against Bucky’s squirming body to keep him still. 

“Take me so good, Buck, so fucking good. Could do this all day, love on you like this ‘til you can’t take anymore, Bucky, _God_.”

“Holy fuck,” Bucky sobs, head thrown back against the wall. Steve thumbs at the slick head of Bucky’s dick, then rubs at the sensitive spot just beneath it. “ _Steve_ , ah– _ah_.”

His orgasm hits him like a freight train, punching the breath out of his lungs. He’s vaguely aware of the sheer trajectory of this one –some of it even shoots into Steve’s hair– but then Steve’s cursing and panting out Bucky’s name and coming inside him with a low, shuddering groan. 

They both just breathe for a while, dazed. Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, and then raises his head again. 

“Still want to try walking?” He wonders, hair a mess, small, sated smile on his face. 

Bucky means to shove, but ends up just batting uselessly at Steve’s shoulder, proving, if anything, the uselessness of his limbs right now. “Don’t you dare put me down,” Bucky tells him, voice still shaky. 

Steve’s grinning, brushing their noses together. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, and carries Bucky to their bedroom.


End file.
